White Picket Fence

In the kitchens of Kumaoni households, a cast iron kadhai is more than just a cooking vessel—it's a cherished heirloom, passed down through generations, carrying with it the essence of traditional Kumaoni cooking. As a child, I would watch in awe as my grandmother prepared her famous  bhatt ki churkani  in her well-seasoned cast iron  kadhai . The  kadhai , with its darkened surface from years of use, seemed to hold the essence of countless meals, and I remember how the  churkani  always tasted better when made in that cherished vessel. For those of us with Kumaoni roots, this simple piece of cookware holds a special place in our kitchens. It’s where the magic happens, where age-old recipes come to life, infusing our meals with rich flavours and essential nutrients.  The cast iron kadhai is not just a tool; it’s an investment in your health and a connection to a rich culinary heritage. Cooking in a cast iron kadhai has been a tradition in Kumaoni ho...

Bhindi was one of those rare dishes that held a special place in the realm of childhood favourites, a triumph amid the array of vegetables that often elicited scrunched-up noses and reluctant bites. While many vegetables sprawled across my plate like unwelcome guests, their textures and colours leaving me skeptical, the okra, sautéed with spices and lovingly cooked by my mother, held a charm that I could not resist.  Today, as I find myself savouring all those once-repellent vegetables with the wisdom of age, bhindi bhujia still remains a cherished favourite. Ingredients: 500 gm okra  (bhindi) 1 large onion  (pyaaz) 2 small potatoes (aloo) 1 green chilli  (hari mirch) 1 tsp cumin (jeera) ½ tsp turmeric powder (haldi) 1 tsp coriander powder (dhania powder) ½ tsp Kashmiri red chilli powder (kashmiri lal mirch) ½ tsp garam masala 2 tbsp mustard oil (sarson tel) salt to taste Instructions: Wash the okra thoroughly. Pat them dry with a kitchen towel to remove excess mois...

As a child, whenever I craved something sweet, my mother would stand by the stove, her hands moving with a practiced grace, turning simple ingredients—sooji, ghee, jaggery—into a warm, fragrant halwa. It was a recipe that barely took time, using only what every Indian kitchen holds, yet it carried a comfort that words often failed to capture. My grandmother, with her steady hands and a wisdom that seemed older than time itself, made the same halwa but with a patience that allowed the flavors to deepen. She would pack it into lunchboxes, small parcels of warmth that would last the week, to be eaten after dinner in quiet satisfaction.  During Navratri, this halwa took on a special significance in our home. Along with soft, golden pooris and a bowl of chana, it was offered to kanyas, young girls who carry the essence of the divine during those sacred days. Navratri, a time when devotion fills the air, is more than ritual—it is a celebration of the feminine divine, a time to honor and ...